


tactics and competition

by Bontaque



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Competition, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Kissing, M/M, Rival Relationship, Rivalry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-14
Updated: 2012-10-14
Packaged: 2017-11-16 06:51:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/536679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bontaque/pseuds/Bontaque





	tactics and competition

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Vearth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vearth/gifts).



 Oliver didn't know how he was supposed to motivate his team. Didn't they want to win? They'd barely paid attention in the changing room, even though he'd made diagrams. They walked slowly out onto the pitch. Okay, maybe he'd been talking longer than he'd thought; the sun had risen whilst he'd been explaining his new tactics.

The team kicked off, ready to put the plans into action. Wood enjoyed the feeling of the wind on his face, getting a little lost in his thoughts for a second until he head a voice cry out.

There was a first year in the stands with a camera. Wood sped towards Harry and the twins to find out what was happening.

“What's going on?” he asked. “Why's that first-year taking pictures? I don't like it. He could be a Slytherin spy trying to find out about our new training programme.”

“He's in Gryffindor,” Harry said.

The kid did look a little familiar.

“And the Slytherins don't need a spy, Oliver,” George said.

“What makes you say that?” Wood asked.

“Because they're here in person,” said George, pointing towards the ground.

He was right. The Slytherin team were walking onto the pitch, broomsticks under their arms.

“I don't believe it!” Wood hissed. “I booked the pitch for today! We'll see about this!”

Wood flew towards the ground, landing hard.

“Flint!” he yelled. “This is our practice time! We got up specially! You can clear off now!”

Flint smirked.

“Plenty of room for all of us, Wood.”

The whole team had landed and were walking over, squaring up to the Slytherins.

“But I booked the pitch!” said Wood angrily. “I booked it!”

“Ah, but I've got a specially signed note here from Professor Snape,” Flint said, unrolling a sheaf of parchment. “I, Professor S. Snape, give the Slytherin team permission to practise today on the Quidditch pitch, owing to the need to train their new Seeker.”

“You've got a new Seeker?” Wood asked. “Where?”

A small, pale boy that Wood recognised as a second year stepped out from behind his team.

“Aren't you Lucius Malfoy's son?” asked Fred.

“Funny you should mention Draco's father,” said Flint, smiling. “Let me show you the generous gift he's made to the Slytherin team.”

Wood's stomach lurched as the team held out their brooms. Nimbus Two Thousand and Ones.

“Very latest model. Only came out last month,” Flint said. “I believe it outstrips the old Two Thousand series by a considerable amount. As for the old Cleansweeps... sweeps the board with them.”

The Gryffindor team was speechless for a moment.

“Oh look,” said Flint. “A pitch invasion.”

Wood looked around to see Ron and Hermione walking towards them. They reached them and asked what was going on. From the tone of Ron's voice, Wood guessed they didn't like the new Seeker very much. He didn't blame them.

“I'm the new Slytherin Seeker, Weasley,” Malfoy said. “Everyone's just been admiring the brooms my father's bought our team.”

Ron openly gaped at the brooms.

“Good, aren't they?” Malfoy said. “ But perhaps the Gryffindor team will be able to raise some gold and get new brooms, too. You could raffle off those Cleansweep Fives. I expect a museum would bid for them.”

The Slytherins laughed loudly as Wood glared at them.

“At least no one on the Gryffindor team had to buy their way in,” Hermione said. “They got in on pure talent.”

Malfoy's smugness slipped for a second.

“No one asked your opinion, you filthy little Mudblood,” he said.

Fred and George lunged at the kid; Flint actually had to shield him from them.

“How dare you!” Alicia shrieked.

“You'll pay for that one, Malfoy!” Ron shouted, pointing his wand under Flint's arm.

There was a loud bang and a jet of green light, shooting out of the wrong end of Ron's wand. It hit him in the stomach, forcing him to fall back onto the grass.

“Ron! Ron! Are you all right?” Hermione asked.

Ron tried to speak but he just burped, expelling several large slugs.

The Slytherins were howling with laughter. Flint was actually holding onto his broom for support as the Gryffindor's gathered around Ron.

“We'd better get him to Hagrid's, it's nearest,” Harry said to Hermione. 

They pulled him up by the arms and walked him off of the pitch. The kid with the camera had run down to meet them and his shrill voice could be heard as they left the stadium.

“Perfect, that was the best thing I've seen all week,” Flint wheezed, still laughing.

“Shut up, Flint,” George shouted.

“Come on, guys, there's no point now,” Wood said.

The team walked back to the changing rooms, spirits dashed. The Slytherins didn't even stay. They left as soon as the Gryffindor team did, obviously not actually interested in training.

Wood left the team to change as he trudged back to the storeroom, carrying the box of Quidditch balls under one arm, mud clinging to the hem of his robes.

He was angry, fuming. Not only were the Slytherins always playing dirty, nobody seemed to want to stop them. Snape should have to follow the rules, too... he was a teacher after all.

Just because the Malfoy boy had money and influence... it was just like Flint to use a new Seeker as an excuse the interrupt their training. He'd worked so hard on a new training schedule and they were going to ruin it all.

Wood pushed the door of the storeroom open and set the box down on a low shelf. He looked at the handle of his broom, turning it over in his hand. It could do with a polish, he'd have to set some time aside before their next practice. Whenever that was going to be. He was sure whenever he did to book the pitch, Flint would manage to ruin it.

Not that he thought Flint did it just to annoy him. Although he might. They'd never seen eye to eye and the fact that they were both captains only made it worse.

As if he knew that he was being thought about, the door swung open and Flint walked into the small cupboard.

“I thought I saw you walking down here,” he said.

“So? What do you want?” Wood asked.

“Just wondered what you thought of my new Seeker,” Flint replied. “You seem to be the expert, lately. Get 'em as young as possible, right?”

“At least mine can fly. Surely you can do better? Are there no Slytherin's in the whole school that don't need to buy their way in?”

“Jealous, Wood? My whole team on new brooms would far outweigh a bad Seeker. If Malfoy was actually bad. He might need a little more training, though...”

Flint smirked when he mentioned training. Interrupting their training as a tactic, that was playing dirty. He shouldn't expect much better from a Slytherin.

“Don't you want to see what it would be like to actually play fair for once?” he asked. “I mean... if you cheat, you never really win, do you?”

Flint rolled his eyes. He didn't have a problem with cheating, obviously. He didn't see why they were even still allowed to play. Cheating just ruined the sport. Then again, when they did get beaten, it was even sweeter.

“Don't be an idiot, Wood.”

“Why are you here, anyway? Just come to gloat?”

Flint shrugged, which was a yes. Of course he just wanted to rub it in, he was as spiteful as he was untrustworthy.

“You might as well give up,” he said. “Why try so hard when we're just going to beat you?”

“Who says you're going to?” Wood asked angrily. “Just because you got some new brooms and insist on crashing our practice, doesn't mean you're suddenly good at Quidditch.”

Flint's face twitched in anger. Maybe because he knew he had to cheat to come close to them.

“Fuck you, Filch uses better brooms to sweep the castle than what your team is riding. You have no chance.”

“No? Yet we still manage to hold our own against you. What does that say about you skills as a captain, exactly?”

Flint's arms came up quicker than Wood could react. He pushed him hard, slamming him into the wall. Arm barred across his neck, face inches away, mouth curled into what could only be described as a snarl.

“Hypocrite.”

“Wow, long word,” Wood said. “ Been studying have we?”

“Always telling me I'm cheating and you... you actually got the rules changed so you could use your Seeker last year.”

Wood frowned. It wasn't untrue. But that was different. Harry didn't have any advantages because he was young. Except maybe that has was smaller, but it wasn't the same thing, was it?

“That's not the same.”

Wood struggled, trying to push Flint off of him. If he could only get to his wand, he could beat him in a fight. Flint was bigger than him but he was faster. When he had him pinned up against the wall, Flint had the upper hand. They'd fought enough that he would know that by now.

Anger furled in Wood's gut as he kicked out, trying to force Flint away. It didn't work. Flint just leaned in closer, pressing his weight against Wood's neck, and chest. He could feel his breath on his skin he was much too close.

“What, you think you can get McGonagall to change the rules for you and then kick up a fuss when I just want to share the field?” he asked, smirking.

He had one of those faces, one that didn't look genuine unless it was threatening.

“That's not the same,” Wood said again, punctuating each word with a half pause. “Are you planning on doing that with every practice, then? People might get the wrong idea.”

Flint frowned, obviously confused.

“What?”

“Well, do you want to look like you're following me around everywhere? This doesn't look too good right now, does it?”

Flint swallowed, eyes flicking down to his lips for a second before he took a deep breath.

“Don't be ridiculous,” he said, but he didn't back away.

“Well, why else would you have come down to the pitch at that time?” Wood asked.

“Would you just shut your mouth for once?” 

“Make me.”

He hadn't meant to say it. It was stupid, immature, but it had just slipped out. What else could you say to that?

Flint kissed him.

Well, he supposed he could call it a kiss, but it was more painful than a kiss should be. It was like Flint was trying to fight with him, his lips pressing hard, tongue pushing in. He was forcing him back against the wall, they were pressed tightly together and Wood could barely breathe. His heart flipped in this chest as he kissed back, his hand curling in Flint's robes.

It wasn't like he wanted this, not with him, not here. He hated Flint. He wanted to hurt him, he wanted to beat him at Quidditch and wipe the smirk off his stupid face, he didn't want some hateful fumble in the storage cupboard, so why was he getting hard?

He shuddered as Flint's teeth pressed into his lower lip. 

Flint's arm slipped down from his chest, relaxing as they kissed. Wood took the chance when he got it; he pushed hard, freeing himself from the other captain's clutches. He moved away from the wall and slipped out from under his body. 

Flint looked surprised for a second when he turned, as if that wasn't how he expected it to go, as if he'd expected Wood the just stay there and take it.

Wood grabbed his broom and left, wondering if that was the most unexpected thing that had ever happened to him at Hogwarts.

 

*

 

Wood put the incident in the store room out of him mind. Flint glared at him whenever they were in class together, but he always glared at him, so that was nothing new. He did say less to him, but Wood saw that as an upside. He didn't have to put up with his snide comments, how could that be a bad thing?

It wasn't until later, when Wood was walking back to Gryffindor tower one night, that he had to think about it. He saw Flint on the stairs, going down, probably towards his common room. There was nobody else around, it was late and most of the younger students were already in bed. 

Flint glanced at him and he didn't know what his expression was saying. He wasn't angry or leering for once and suddenly Wood wondered if he'd even ever spoken to him properly, no insults, no arguments. He wondered what he'd have done in the situation if it hadn't been with the Slytherin captain, but someone he could talk to. Would they have sorted it out by now? Would he have even left like that?

Wood opened his mouth to say something, anything, but then Flint's usual sneer returned and he remembered that he didn't give a shit.

"What are you looking at?" Flint asked.

"Nothing."

Two days later, on the way down to practice, Oliver spotted Flint walking towards the storeroom, carrying the box of Quidditch balls.

It was unavoidable. He had to go get them. Not strictly true, he still had to show the team his new formations but he wanted to run into him again.

The Slytherin team passed by, one of them elbowing Fred in the ribs.

"You fucking --" Fred shouted.

"Fred. Leave it," Katie said.

The team had had talks about retaliation since the mishap with Ron's wand.

"I'll meet you on the pitch," Wood said.

He broke off from the team, walking towards the small building that contained the storeroom. He pushed the door open, walked in and closed it behind him.

Flint was standing there, a peculiar look on his face, like he didn't know whether to smile or insult him.

"What do you want?"

"Flint, I --"

He wanted to ask him what had happened before, to make sure it wasn't going to turn sour, to ask why it had happened but he didn't.

Wood stepped forwards and kissed him, rushed and nervous, needing it more than he could explain. Flint's hands sprang up to push against Wood's chest. His fists were in his robes, twisting in the fabric but he stopped pushing as Wood walked him closer to the wall.

It was the same but mirrored, it was happening like it should have, just a week late. They kissed awkwardly, teeth pressing into tongues and lips, breathing heavily through their noses. Their bodies were pressed together, hands roaming frantically.

There was still a casual violence to it all, they could never be gentle, could they? Wood pulled away and Flint moved fast, grabbing him by the shoulders and pressing him against the wall again.

He felt trapped, like the storeroom was even smaller than reality. He needed to get back, really. The team was waiting for him and this was the first place they'd look for him.

"Hey... Stop..." he said. "My team is waiting."

"Let them wait," Flint said, running his fingers across to the hem of his robes.

"No, I mean if they come looking for me..." Wood said.

Flint straightened up, pulling his hands away. He plunged his hand into his robes and pulled out his wand and pointed it at the door.

“Colloportus,” he muttered. 

The door locked with an odd squelching noise and Flint put his wand back in his robes. 

Wood thought that the spell should at least buy them some time if someone came looking for them. He shuddered when Flint pressed against him again, kissing him and moving in a way that had to be deliberate. Wood had been starting to think about how to hide his growing erection, but it didn't look like that would be a problem. 

Their Quidditch robes stopped them from getting anywhere near enough friction, but Wood could definitely feel something hard pressing against his cock. Flint groaned quietly against his mouth as he rolled his hips, hands roaming down to Wood's waist.

Wood could feel his face flushing. What was he doing? Kissing, that was one thing but this? Flint was kissing him hungrily and thrusting eagerly, robes bunching up a little from the movement. His hands lingered around the hem of Wood's robes, fingers brushing over the fabric of his uniform. 

Wood moaned at the feeling of Flint against him; he wanted more but he wasn't sure he could bring himself to take the next step.

That went out of his mind when Flint pressed harder against him, his head dropping down against Wood's neck and he moaned something that sounded a lot like _Oliver_. 

Wood ran his hands down Flint's body, skirting under his robes and clothes, letting his fingers trail over the skin of his abdomen, slowly moving lower. He took a breath and kept going, running his hand over Flint's cock, feeling precome leaking against his skin. He wrapped his fingers around it and Flint gasped, thrusting into his fist. 

Flint hurried to reciprocate, fumbling with Wood's robes and finding his cock. He closed his fist around it, jerking him roughly as he kissed him again, like his life depended on it. 

“Fuck,” Wood breathed.

They were pressed so close, like they were trying to occupy the same space as each other. Wood knew that as soon as everything was over, they would probably freak out. He knew that they should probably stop before that point but, fuck, he didn't think he could if wanted to.

Flint smirked when he moaned, running his thumb across the tip of his cock to make it happen again. There was a glint of competitiveness in his eyes.

Wood bucked up into his fist, his head spinning. He was close, really fucking close but he wasn't going to come first. He couldn't. Flint would never let him live it down.

He curled his toes in his shoes and flicked his wrist, moving his hand faster, pulling a groan from Flint. He was breathing hard too; Wood knew there wasn't going to be much in it. He tightened his grip, increasing pace in time with Flint. They both pushed each other, competing and Wood knew making his rival come first would feel better than any Quidditch victory.

He didn't quite manage it, though. He should have expected foul play, he was competing with a Slytherin, after all. Flint kissed him hard, slipping his free hand up and under Wood's clothing. His fingers brushed against one of his nipples and Wood's knees buckled.

That was not fair.

Flint sniggered and ran his hand across his chest, tweaking his other nipple and squeezing his cock. Wood's hips twitched uncontrollably as he tried to calm himself down but it was no use. He just sped up his strokes, hoping he could bring Flint over the edge first. 

Flint knew he was going to win, Wood could see it in his eyes. His thumb ran over his nipple again, circling it slowly and it was too much. 

Wood groaned, leaning back against the wall as he came hard, thrusting into Flint's fist. Flint rutted against him, exhaling loudly as he let go, releasing into Wood's hand. 

The two of them collapsed against the wall and Wood fought to stay standing; he was breathing hard, his legs had turned to jelly.

He needed to break the silence, it was tense and uncomfortable, but what could he say? He didn't think he'd ever really had a conversation with Flint, even in a normal situation. Not that they were in a normal situation. 

When they moved apart, Wood pulled out his wand and pointed it at himself.

“Scourgify,” he said, before pointing his wand at Flint and repeating the spell.

“Uh, thanks,” Flint said.

Wood hoped he was thanking him for the spell. Flint nodded at him awkwardly and they both rearranged their robes, to make the events less obvious. They left together and split off, Wood carrying the box of Quidditch balls.

As he walked down to the pitch, he tried to come up with an excuse for why he'd taken so long that the team would actually buy.


End file.
